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I looked back at him. “I’ll get Creed. You get the hell out of my dad’s clubhouse before he loses his shit. Or you lose a body part.”
He chuckled slightly, nodding his head and turning to leave.
Knowing Slater was on club property set my skin on fire. I hadn’t wanted to speak to Creed tonight, yet it looked like I was going to have to do it. Throwing back my whiskey, I walked to their table.
My dad’s eyes were on his cards. He always took poker seriously. Mum was glued to his lap since Ollie was with Ivy.
Mum and Dad were the power couple that people in the underworld warned you about. There was no doubt that the relationship they had was what every club woman here wanted with their biker.
Pausing at the table, I noticed Kobra had a foul look on his face and a cut lip.
“Creed,” I said loudly, and every pair of eyes went off the game and to me. Even Vin, the dealer, looked at me. I gestured my head to the door. “I need you outside.”
With that said, I turned and walked. I wasn’t having a confrontation with my family. I could guarantee that Dad would be disappointed, and Kobra would think I was about to fight with Creed.
I pushed open the clubhouse door. Luckily for us, the lot was bare apart from the armoured Hummer parked, with Slater leaning against it.
The clubhouse door opened behind me, and I glanced back, seeing Creed. He had a puzzled look on his face until his eyes found Slater—who was standing behind me, looking cocky like normal.
“Creed, brother,” Slater said, and I saw Creed’s whole body go tense. “We need to talk.”
I knew Creed and I weren’t a couple. Creed and I weren’t anything but a drama-filled mess. But I wasn’t leaving him to face the man he hated.
Creed came from a family built on blood money and was run by sin. How was that different from a club? Well, our club had standards. We never did human trafficking. Creed’s family was known for it.
Creed turned his back on his blood—not because the club expected him to. No, he joined the club because he didn’t want the life they had, the life he was brought up having. Being a street kid was one thing; being a street kid associated with the Winston monarchy was another. He was a walking target.
“You can go, sweetheart,” Slater said, and he had the stomach to whack my ass.
I swiped his hand away and turned to face him—looking him dead in the eyes.
“No.” I crossed my arms.
Slater’s lips twitched up. “Standing by him in the good and the bad, geez.” His eyes went to Creed. “Can we share her?”
“What the fuck you want, Slater?” Creed asked, now standing by me. I was surprised he hadn’t forced me back inside.
Slater’s eyes lifted from Creed to me, and then he tilted his head. “Is she worth the blood?” He then slowly looked at Creed. “We dealt with you when you dabbled with the Satan’s Bastards, but Mother and Father want you back where you belong now.”
Silence.
“We dealt with your little anarchy phase, but we heard you are about to patch to the table as VP.” Slater looked at Creed, arching his eyebrows. “You know we can’t let that happen.” Slater fixed a cufflink on his wrist. “Family is family, and you are family. So we are giving you time to reconsider.”
“Family?” Creed scoffed, and I heard the grip on his temper slipping. “We aren’t family.”
“Oh, and your little club brothers are?” Slater said mockingly. “Family, blood, loyalty, trust for the Winston name runs through your blood.”
Creed stayed silent.
Slater sighed. “Fine, don’t come willingly. If you wish to stand by Hades as he burns to the ground—then so be it.”
“You threatening the club?” Creed said with a hiss. “’Cos you didn’t exactly win when it came to a war last time.”
Slater smirked. “Let’s say the devil is reaping, and I heard Hades name was on the list.” With that said, Slater took two steps back. “You’ll be back at our table before you wear a VP for this brotherhood. I promise you that, my brother.”
Creed didn’t say anything. We both remained quiet as Slater got in the Hummer and left.
My heart was racing because the last time the club went to war, we lost our grandfather and grandmother. Because Kincaids believe you stand by the club until you take your last breath.
